


Lazarus

by drown (teii)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, M/M, PTSD, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 09:53:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7310197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teii/pseuds/drown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Focus, Lance! Find an opening!”</p><p>“Look man, I can’t be handsome and intelligent and a boxing savant all at the same time,” Lance jokes, but he looks like he’s struggling, finally having to block Shiro’s fists instead of dancing around them.</p><p>Shiro found himself so in the zone, locked in the intricate dance with Lance trying to goad him to attacking, that he doesn’t notice his hand glowing until it’s too late. A block, a hard push back, and another missed punch. But with the extra radius his blade arm gave him, it was just enough to—oh god.</p><p>Shiro stumbles back, left hand covering his mouth, eyes widening in horror, “L-lance…” he barely manages out, “I…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazarus

“Yeah, sure, I’m down for it.”

Shiro blinks, admittedly fully expecting to have to spend at least a few minutes coaxing Lance to spar with him. “Really?” 

Usually, any suggestion for training is prompt for a good amount of grousing, but the teen simply hauls himself off the couch, stretching his arms above his head, strolling past Shiro before pivoting to walk backwards as he shrugs, “Why not? Could be fun.”

Shiro tilts his head slightly, arms crossing in interest. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say ‘training’ and ‘fun’ in the same sentence without a ‘no’ in the middle.”

Lance shoves his hands into his pockets, his eyes looking off to the side as his mouth turns in a half-pout. “I’m…ok with training, just that it sucks with Keith. The guy has a one track mind, almost like a machine. I won’t be surprised if we one day found out he has wires instead of blood vessels.”

Shiro fights a smile, ducking his head slightly, but with the way Lance is beaming at him, he full well knows that Lance has seen him.

Shiro shakes his head, “is this because Keith started that nickname thing?”

“They’re not even good! It’s just a deliberate excuse to mess up my name!” Lance groans, “I mean, seriously? Lancaster? Lancelot? Lazarus? Actually, Lazarus does sound pretty sweet…”

“Alright, Lazarus,” Shiro teases, finally reaching the training grounds, “for today, we’re going to work on close-quartered combat. As useful as Bayards are, we have to train for the possibility that they won’t be available.”

“Lucky for you, yours is with you all the time,” Lance grins, before shuttering into an uneasy grimace, a hand scratching the back of his head. “Uh, was that bad to say? Too early? I-uh—you can ignore that if you want, I didn’t mean anything by that….”

Shiro glances at his prosthetic arm, before shaking his head. “It’s true, but unless we graft yours onto your body, you’re probably best off learning to fight without it, just in case. You know the basics of hand to hand combat?”

“More or less. Allura made me run through the basic training with the ‘droid.” Lance drawls out, shucking off his army jacket, tossing it into a corner, “Ten metaphorical bucks says you can’t hit me,” Lance cockily brags, tongue between teeth, and Shiro raises an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips nevertheless. “Ten metaphorical bucks it is.”

Lance nods, and leans his head side to side, shaking out his fingers before getting into a fighting stance, bouncing lightly on his feet. Shiro follows suit, and they circle each other. Shiro hasn’t had the chance to spar with Lance yet, with the harrowing set back to back missions as of late, so he doesn’t have a read on how Lance moves, but as it turns out—he doesn’t have much need for it. Lance was unpredictable, and surprisingly quick, barely having to block any of Shiro’s strikes since he’s already moved out of the way, and Shiro finds it sort of exhilarating, trying to catch up with him. “Where did you learn how to move like that?”

As another punch misses its mark, only glancing off Lance’s ribs, the teen laughs, “I—uh, learned how to dodge pretty fast. The neanderthals back at the Garrison didn’t find my jokes all too funny for some reason, real shame.” A confident, reassured grin slides onto Lance’s face. “This is gonna be the easiest ten metaphorical bucks I ever make.”

Shiro chuckles, “we only just started.” And with that little hint, Shiro does notice that Lance does seem to be mostly on the defense, only attacking to make Shiro step back, but otherwise not keeping the momentum up to put the pressure on Shiro. “So you never landed a punch on those so-called neanderthals?” Shiro pants out, trying a leg swipe that hits only air.

“Well, I did, but my fist was the only loser that day. It was like fighting a boulder. Yeah, going head to head wasn’t in the cards at that time.”

“It’s fine as a hit and run distraction, but if there’s a chance to incapacitate your enemy, you gotta take that chance,” Shiro recommends, before barking, “c’mon, see if you can land a hit!”

Lance’s confident smirk is gone in a flash, but it’s replaced quickly by a determined stare, which Shiro was glad to see. As he says, Lance doesn’t have much experience in attacking, with wide, clumsy swings that Shiro was able to block without much problem, though unable to counter.

“Focus, Lance! Find an opening!”

“Look man, I can’t be handsome and intelligent and a boxing savant all at the same time,” Lance jokes, but he looks like he’s struggling, finally having to block Shiro’s fists instead of dancing around them.

Shiro found himself so in the zone, locked in the intricate dance with Lance trying to goad him to attacking, that he doesn’t notice his hand glowing until it’s too late. A block, a hard push back, and another missed punch. But with the extra radius his blade arm gave him, it was just enough to—oh god.

Shiro stumbles back, left hand covering his mouth, eyes widening in horror, “L-lance…” he barely manages out, “I…”

Lance shakily brings up a hand and gingerly touches his neck, gasping as he pulls his hand back and finds his fingertips stained red.

“Oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Lance chants, clutching at his throat, his voice breaking as tears of panic brim in his eyes, “Oh god, oh fuck, fuck I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna fucking die, I don’t wanna die like this, oh my fucking god…”

“Lance, Lance, god, ok, this is—I-- we need to get you to the med bay—“ Shiro quickly thrusts out his right arm to lift Lance up, unaware that the purple glow hasn’t left, and Lance falls backwards, scrabbling away from Shiro, streaking the floor with red, splotchy handprints. “GET AWAY FROM ME!” he yells, covering his face with his arms, and Shiro feels his heart twist in cold, horrified guilt at the sight.

The blood has made its way down to Lance’s white tee, drenching the shirt through, and Shiro has to take a moment to pull himself together, before doubling back and sprinting towards the wall, punching out the code to turn on the emergency alarm, the raucous sound blaring throughout the entire castle. It wasn’t long before Pidge, Keith and Hunk come barreling in, shouting and yelling in a panic before being simultaneously stunned into silence at the scene before them. Allura and Coran follows in close second, all of them rooted to the floor in horror at the bloody mess. The stupor was broken with Allura turning towards to Hunk, a firm hand on his arm. “Hunk, he needs to get to the rehabilitation chamber and you need to carry him there, now.”

“O-okay,” Hunk nods, getting down on his knees, but stopping, “ahh…oh geez…how do I pick him up? Should the blood be going to his head or maybe I need to keep his head elevated? Or maybe—“

Pidge kneels next to him, inspecting it, before finding a clean handkerchief in their pocket and pressing it down on the slash. “It seems shallow enough, doesn’t look like it hit any major arteries, just don’t jostle him too much.”

“Got it,” Hunk nods, his face in a tight grimace, steeling himself to look away from his best friend’s face to focus on the task on hand.

“Hurry!” Allura yells behind him, while Coran jogs ahead, his long legs propelling him past the entourage. “I’ll get a pod up and running!”

Keith looks back at Shiro, his eyes glassy and out of focus, and he loops back to shake the man’s shoulder in an attempt to pull him out of his stupor. “Shiro? You…you in there? We…we gotta go. Shiro?”

“….Shiro?”

\--

“Um…Shiro?”

Shiro blearily looks up, and finds Hunk shuffling at the door to the med bay, a tray of food in hand. Shiro attempts a smile, though he guesses it’s not very convincing since Hunk seems to shrink back a bit. “I uh—brought you dinner, since you didn’t come down.”

Shiro nods instead, “thanks, Hunk, you can—you can put that over there, I’ll get to it later,” he says, clasping his hands together behind his back as he goes back to staring at Lance floating in the pod.

“No prob,” Hunk says, taking a deep breath as he makes himself look up at Lance, alongside Shiro, “Pidge was right—the cut wasn’t deep, Lance will be out in a day or two at this rate. He’s probably still in there for shock rather than that actual injury.”

“Thanks Hunk,” Shiro sighs, “Allura told me the same earlier.”

“Oh.” Hunk says. He presses his lips together, as if wanting to say something, and decides to go for it, though his words are slow, deliberate. “I…I don’t think Lance is the type of guy who’s going to think this is anything but an accident. He’s gets worked up real fast. P-probably saw all the…all that blood and freaked. I mean, I don’t blame him, but at the same time…”

“It’s not…you should’ve seen…that look he gave me. Scared out of his wits. Of me. Like I was some monster…I haven’t seen someone so scared of me since Matt,” Shiro says, grimacing as his mind invariably links the two, the complete betrayal, and the abject fear. “I’m supposed to lead this team, and I want us to be able to freely trust and help each other, but if I…if I managed to terrify Lance that much, if he can’t trust me again, I…”

Hunk sets a hand onto Shiro’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You can’t just assume that. Talk to Lance. He’s the one that really needs to hear this.”

“I—“ Shiro starts, but the pod’s walls slides open, smoke billowing out, and Lance leans against the side, struggling to open his eyes.

“Lance!” Shiro and Hunk cry out simultaneously, each holding onto one of Lance’s arms to slowly extricate him out of the pod.

“You ok man? You scared the living crap out of me, dude, god, I swear I was straight up going to have a heart attack—“

“Hunk,” Lance whispers out, voice scratchy and faint. “I’m…I think I might need to sleep this off, so uh….could…”

“Bedroom, right,” Hunk nods firmly, “Shiro, can you help me—“

“Shiro?!” Lance yelps, wrenching his arm out of Shiro’s grasp and crashing into Hunk’s, breathing wildly. Shiro takes a step back, looking away in shame. “I’ll be taking my leave now,” he announces, turning away before he gets another glimpse at Lance.

\--

Shiro mostly keeps to himself for the next few days, focusing all his efforts on trying to find out more about his hand, and graciously, Allura hasn’t notified them of any missions, realizing that the team dynamic wasn’t stable enough to form Voltron currently, though pointedly making hints to Shiro to discuss the situation with Lance. But Shiro cloisters himself in his sleeping quarters, feeling as though he has nothing to show to Lance to gain back his trust if he doesn’t have full control over his arm.

At his lowest, most desperate, he almost sees fit to simply chop of the arm. Stop all this once and for all. Keeping it attached would be dangerous to the rest of the crew. Hunk has access to a number of plasma cutters in his work station, and then he and Pidge could design and build him a new arm, it wouldn’t take much of their time, right?

But the feeling fades after a while, and he’s left staring tiredly at his arm, slowly moving his fingers, trying to focus on every single movement.

“Guess I owe ya ten mind bucks, huh?”

Shiro jolts, head hitting the top bunk, and he hisses in pain. “Lance…” he lets out, “I….”

“Where’ve you been, dude? I tried asking everyone after I woke up where you were, but no one had a clue. Have you been cooped up here this whole time?”

Shiro stares at Lance. How on earth could he be so nonchalant about this? “I, well, yes, but that’s beside the point…I just… I can’t even begin to say how sorry I am, Lance…”

Lance looks down, and a long pause settles between the two. “Oh, that? Hah..I’m over it. Water under the bridge and all that, y’know?” But his faux assured cadence falters, and he sighs, knowing that Shiro doesn’t quite believe him.

“I…that reaction. When I first got out of the pod. I was seriously loopy, not quite getting my bearings yet, y’know? I trust you. I trust that you’d never hurt me on purpose. I totally do, my brain does, my heart does, I just gotta…stop being so jumpy I guess.”

Shiro stands up, about to walk over to Lance, but decides against it. “You had every reason to be scared, Lance. I figured that I had a good grip on this…thing, but apparently I’m not as in control as I thought I was. It was my oversight that led to this. The Galrans turned me into a weapon, and I don’t think I’m even scratching the surface of what they could potentially do with me. I’m a liability to the team until I understand exactly what they’ve melded onto me.”

“But that’s the thing, right?” Lance shakily laughs, “We had no idea even what the Galrans were, or even that they existed until we came to the castle, and all of a sudden we gotta drop everything and fight them? I…I just—this is…this is what we’re up against—an enemy that we barely know and could attack us at any time. I gotta get a thicker skin, I’m not gonna, I’m not gonna last like this if I can’t handle myself.”

“Lance, please don’t think like that,” Shiro says, slowly coming over, relieved that Lance isn’t moving away. “You’re more than brave for staying in the fight. There’s nothing wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with fearing the fight ahead of us. I just hope that I can eventually find some way to ensure that you have nothing to fear from me. Not just for Voltron, and not just for the team, I—“ Shiro swallows, before he says anything too rash, “I just want to make you feel safe.”

Lance looks away, and Shiro understands, understands that behind all that bravado was a severely overwhelmed rookie pilot sent out to save the entire galaxy. That even with being slammed into a coma, several extremely close shaves, and recurring bout of homesickness, he’s never given serious thought of abandoning his post. 

Lance doesn't speak, but nods along, holding his elbow finally letting out a deep breath. "Yeah. I-- thanks, Shiro. It's...its just...weird. Stuff I gotta work out. I thought if I talked to you, I'd feel better and I totally do, but, I just...still feel weird. Just y'know, if I do or say something weird don't take it personally, please, that's the last thing I want." Lance glances up, looking a little apprehensive, but Shiro sends a warm smile his way. 

"I understand. Take all the time you need."

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to quickly apologize to like the first forty people or so who've read this because I went and changed the ending to something i felt would be more sincere and not 'yay everything's fixed.' Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> My Tumblr is [teii](http://teii.tumblr.com) if you'd like to chat!


End file.
